SD1926. Joseph Milsand to William Henry Darley
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 22, 271–273. (in part)
Dijon rue des Forges (sans numéro)
Monday 12 May 1856
My dear Darley
It is very kind of you to have written to me; the news you sent me about your brother seems to show that it was an annoying effect of the usual constitution rather than a serious change for the worse; and I like to think that the news partially reassured you. You will still be leaving us, I fear, to travel to England or elsewhere; but one must hope that this will be a pleasurable project for you, as I deeply wish. I think you already have enough of a natural tendency to melancholy. Thinking about what you told me in your first letter about Yvert’s departure, I thought this morning about our club, about our Thursday get-togethers, which one could well call the club of the disappointed, and I imagined another apartment next to yours where the world’s fortunate people would get together, people who had succeeded in their enterprises. I imagine that through the tapestry at times we would hear next to us more laughter: but I also imagine that we would hear many more offensive remarks and cutting voices; and that all in all one would pass one’s time less agreeably and less amicably with such neighbors than with ourselves. That’s always something, even here below. Your regrets for poor Yvert touched me and made me blush. Poor boy, I pity him and am very much concerned about him. I even feel that sort of physical attraction for him which is friendship-but the devil always plays shabby tricks with my brain. It puts eyeshades on me which in spite of myself direct my eyes towards what displeases me. That certain cutting quality of our poor friend has always left an impression on me which I cannot shake off. Ah, it is a very fine ideal, that of Christians: loving even one who is not lovable by dint of being loving. But I will talk with you about that.
A few days ago I received a letter from Browning. I do not know whether he is one of those fortunate people I was speaking of; but if he is one of them, prosperity has not spoiled him. I cannot tell you how cordial his letter was: and his cordiality is like everything from him—it is mixed with something which makes it astonishing.
But Browning is mixed in my mind with my interminable affair about the article; and I must again tell you my tale. I believe I wrote you that Mr de Mars had written me in April to say that some articles of an unaccustomed length again prevented me from appearing on the 15th, but I would appear without fail the first of May.– Seeing that they have again broken their promise, I have written to Buloz: that I had set out resolved to no longer concern myself with the article and to let him finish as he might think proper a mystery about which I would swear I could not understand anything: that it was at the Revue that he was pleased to once again make commitments which had not been fulfilled—to which I added that the Revue could act as it wished, as for me I could only suspend my dealings if the line of conduct towards me was not what I thought right to expect, and that, since such was the case, I was withdrawing my article.
Buloz responded with a letter which I may, I think, call mere verbiage even though it related to me: He told me that when one leaves without saying anything one should be more indulgent; that the desire of helping out a friend should not prevent me from maintaining a relationship with the Revue; that if I had been in Paris I would have had an explanation of the mystery, seeing that Mr de Mars went to my house; that Buloz himself had some attacks to repel and that he could not forego defending himself to think only of me—finally he said that if I withdrew the article I would have to pay the costs which his printer had charged.
I was much troubled by this letter, and I answered in a way which was far from satisfying me; here is my letter.– Sir: it is not a matter of risks which there might be to me in a postponement; there is nothing but a breaking off with you; neither was it a matter of helping a friend, if you take that in a bad sense; if that were the case you should not have accepted my article; it is especially not a matter, finally of being over-sensitive; at least, I do not think so; it is a matter of knowing whether, after a delay of five months, I ought to keep on bowing my head because that might be in my interest, or whether I should find bad aloud what I quietly found bad. As for what you tell me about the delay being originally my fault, I would permit myself to remind you: that my article was sent to you the 12th of December 1855; that, when there was a complaint about its length, I immediately made cuts (the first time asking only for a day, the second time there and then); that later, after I had revised it at your request, you had promised, making only a vague reservation, to publish it in the next issue, and that afterwards I did not appear in that issue or in the next, and that without receiving a word of explanation. I do not know whether I did indeed take you too little into account; one is a poor judge of one’s own case; but I doubt whether you would be able yourself to testify having taken me much into account; and in my place perhaps many others would have drawn a worse conclusion than I myself in thinking that you were only putting up with my article as an annoying necessity and that you were much inclined to forget it until new promises indeed put it completely out of your mind.
But after all that, you introduced an argument which I never expected and which stops me short. I told you my thinking, such as it is, nothing more nor less. But unfortunately I do not have the means to pay your printing costs without a serious inconvenience for me; and, consequently, I am not able to insist on having my article returned to me if you impose this condition. So you may follow your wish. I have the honor to be your humble servant.[”]
Perhaps I should have run the risk of a little lawsuit– I should have said something else.
Give me your opinion about this without fear and without scruple.
As to the heart of this affair, I still think there was no intention of bad faith, but only a lack of good faith. Buloz acted as many others: he spoke according to the needs of the occasion, and he did not feel obligated to pay attention to what he said. But never mind, between us words cannot count any more, and there is a breaking off.
All this relates to Browning through the fact that I am perhaps going to be published.– Laugh as much as you like: that frightens me. I am afraid I have not done justice to Browning—and it seems to me that my advice at the end, or rather the lecture I give him, seems a little like impertinence.– But you also find yourself linked to my fate … I wanted and I hoped to break off without it becoming an explosion. That would have allowed me to submit your article on Ruskin. Now that will be impossible for me. You will have to become your own sponsor. But there is no difficulty in that. I imagine that the best thing you can do, when you are ready, will be to write Buloz telling him you have an article at his disposal and asking him whether he is prepared to accept it. Probably he will answer yes and you will have little to risk.
However, if a little courage, or rather activity, comes back to me—for it is scarcely a matter for me any more of anything other than a mechanical activity,—I will perhaps make an endeavor to which I would associate you in advance. The [Revue Contemporaine et] Athenæum Français might be willing to accept me, and you too could submit something there. Short articles will suit you, perhaps.
I forgot to tell you that Browning spoke of you in his letter. He wrote that: He liked you, Darley, very much, and what he had seen of you made a whole, eminently worthy and loveable. Since there are so many slanderers, I want to contribute peace and goodwill among men.
Sincerely yourss.
J Milsand
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Joseph Milsand Archive.
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